


Bride

by themantlingdark



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: I can't disable commenting here. If I could, I would. Please pretend that I have.





	Bride

Though many love to battle, no kingdom craves war - especially not when it can be avoided.

After centuries of uneasy peace, a strange promise is made.

The Aesir have the upper hand. Odin has the Casket and the insight granted by his seidr. All present expect him to drive a hard bargain.

When Laufey demands that Odin's firstborn be given to his own firstborn, eyebrows are raised at Jotunheim's boldness.

When Odin accepts, hardly a jaw in the room can keep from gaping. Odin, Frigga, Laufey and Farbauti are the exception, retaining their composure throughout.

Laufey's realm needed a show of strength here from its ruler. Needed a victory. They never imagined they might get one.

Laufey's firstborn is a runt, smooth and plump, with a black cap of hair. A throwback to days when the realms were far more friendly, and Aesir, Vanir, Ljosalfar, Jotnar, and Dokkalafar were wont to wed and bed one another. Laufey is delighted, thinking the Aesir will be insulted.

It is never easy to be a child on Jotunheim. Loki has the added complications of being the heir, being undersize, and being undervalued.

He makes his own way. He has a gift for seidr. He has a keen mind. And he is swift and agile. He also has the fierce love of his younger brothers; twins only three years younger than he is, both of whom are enormous. Loki forbade them from fighting his battles, but they are no less his allies.

The brothers often go on long hunts together, escaping the insanity of their city and lazing about under Jotunheim's silent skies. It's the greatest joy Laufey's sons know.

Loki's countrymen whisper and sneer at him until his tongue is honed to a sharp point. He wounds them with words at every turn.

When he comes of age he is challenged to dozens of duels - a practice unheard of in any court; no other prince was ever insulted so.

Loki isn't surprised in the least and takes it in stride. He rends every enemy like rotten silk and the Frost Giants reluctantly accept that he is a worthy warrior.

Odin's son is nine years Loki's junior. Tales are told of him as soon as he's toddling. Of strength, fearlessness, willfulness, and a wild heart. Of a weird accord with nature. That the boy is bringing down storms. That he's the god of thunder.

Thor knows of his fate. He rages against it, but his father does not yield.

He dreads the passage of time. It spites him by passing swiftly.

Thor is as tall as he will get, at the tail end of adolescence, when his mother comes to his room and sits down beside him on the bed, taking his hand.

“You are to be wedded in three week's time,” she says, smiling softly.

His face goes taut, but he says nothing, only nods his head.

“Do you trust me?” she whispers, and he looks her in the eye.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I would let harm come to you?”

“No.”

She nods, satisfied with his answers. He nods, content with her questions.

Still, he feels too young for this. His waist is as slender as a maiden's. His hair is silky and fine, pooling on his shoulders in gold waves. His arms and shoulders have not yet filled in, nor has his beard.

He is far stronger than he looks, but so are Frost Giants, and Laufey's son has the benefit of being fully grown. And remaining in his own realm. And being the future king. Thor worries about Asgard's throne, but his mother has assured him his baby brother Tyr will be able to the task when Odin is ready to step down.

Thor's ears have not missed the whispers about his future spouse: cold, hard, clever, relentless. Frigga, however, makes no mention of these things. She teaches him his vows. Gives him advice on being a good husband. A good father. Tells him of the joys of the honeymoon while he groans and buries his face in his hands. She giggles beside him but doesn't falter in her lecturing. She shows him the dances he might need to know.

It's all so pleasant.

If it weren't for the worry about the purpose of these lessons, these days would be some of the happiest of Thor's life. His mother has never been so open with him, and she hasn't fawned over him like this since he was tiny. He fears he'll only miss her more when he's forced to leave.

She catches him staring at her with sadness weighing down his features.

“I will be visiting you often – your father too, whenever he is able,” she says. “They can never keep you from me.” 

Thor is visibly relieved by these reassurances.

Odin adds another one: Thor is granted his choice of weapon. He opts for a rather awkward looking hammer. The thing is calling to him. It lets him sail through the air like an arrow and he is glad to know that it will hear his call while he is alone in a strange realm. That he can fly from danger. Or flatten it.

Loki's people expect this marriage to come to ruin. They want to see the runt falter and prove himself to be the failure they've always believed him to be. Aesir are coveted mates, but for all the power of their pretty forms, their hearts are fragile things; Asgardian's will fight to their own deaths (and take whole villages with them) if they are unhappy. And Loki's cruelty is infamous. No one can foresee a good end.

As much as it pleases the Jotnar to picture the demise of their puny prince, the fallout with Asgard would be one their own world would not be likely to weather.

For the first time, the Jotnar worry. And they wonder if every ounce of ill will, every act of unkindness, and every unapologetic attack they've dealt to Loki will be visited on the heads of their children after Loki twists and starves Thor's heart. They can't imagine what else he would do, for it is all he has ever known.

Thor travels with his parents to Jotunheim. He feels numb with dread.

He's kept in a locked and guarded room, and allowed only his mother for company. Odin is off talking with Laufey. The spouses are not allowed a glimpse of each other until the ceremony. The Frost Giants that Thor sees on his way through the palace leave him shaken.

I'm going to be torn apart, he thinks.

He can't sleep that night.

Jotunheim experiences the first of what will prove to be a long line of thunderstorms.

The Jotnar stare at the sky and wonder if perhaps they should worry for the well-being of their own prince: his intended is a more powerful being than they had anticipated.

Thor's mother told him to bring gifts for his spouse. Three hard things and three soft. Thor chose the Casket, throwing knives, and a heavy torque of gold for the former; his favorite book of poems, a cloak of green silk to match the red one he always wears, and one of Idunn's apples for the latter.

In the morning Frigga helps Thor dress. He is to wear a long white garment, heavily embroidered and beaded with gold. She tells him his husband will be donning the same.

“It's a gown,” Thor gripes, frowning.

“Aye,” Frigga says, smirking. “Do you know why?”

“Because I am to be his bride. No doubt he had hoped your firstborn would be a daughter.”

“You're not thinking clearly,” Frigga chides gently. “The Jotnar have always preferred our men, for you look far more like them than we women do. And they prize warriors.”

Thor hums.

“It's white like snow, ice, and stars, the dominant features of this realm. It's a gown because you can't pass a baby through a pant-leg, and the Jotnar are meant to give each other children. At the end of the ceremony, you will remove the gowns and burn them together on an altar, as you will never need them again. The gold will remain behind and is to be made into matching crowns.”

“I am meant to stand naked before the court at my own marriage?” Thor asks.

“All of Asgard has seen you naked. What is the difference? You bathe in the public baths and swim in the seas and streams in naught but your skin as often as you are able.”

Thor scowls. He can't argue with her.

Thor can't even deny that the garment is lovely. There's a mirror of silver and ice in his room. He can see himself clearly. The dress fits over his chest and arms loose enough that he can move freely but close enough that his form can easily be discerned. He wishes the wedding could be held in three years, when he'd be fully grown and ready to begin eating Idunn's apples to halt his aging. He feels tiny. Childish. Feminine for the first time in his life. His blond hair and thin limbs are made more delicate beside the bare bulk of the Jotnar.

Thor's gown is covered in eagles. He wonders what Loki's will bear.

At the sound of horns, Frigga picks up the chest carrying Thor's gifts and they head out to Laufey's hall.

Thor follows his mother. He can see Farbauti approaching with a matching box of gifts for him. He can't see his intended.

They arrive at the altar and the space around them fills in with Frost Giants.

Thor wants to fly away.

Odin and Laufey are opposite each other at the narrow ends of the altar; Frigga and Farbauti are at the long ends with their sons behind them. They nod to each other and step to the side, granting the spouses their first glimpse of each other.

Loki's lips part very slightly, but he makes no sound. Thor looks on unblinking.

The Jotun looks nothing like the rest of his kin. Thor had heard that Loki was small, but it's more than that: this is the sort of face he's only read about in history books. An amalgam of all the realms.

He is beautiful.

But Loki's gown is covered in serpents and Thor is slightly unsettled. Their forked tongues are out tasting the air, and there's something about the way they're all twined together.

Erotic.

Unapologetic.

Hypnotic.

It makes Thor self-conscious.

He has no experience. He's been engaged all his life. He reminds himself the same holds true of his husband, and hopes his betrothed has been as steadfast as he has.

The princes turn and open the chests their parents hold for them.

Thor takes out the torque. Loki takes out a necklace of delicate gold chain, hung with rubies all around. They pass the gifts across the table and put them into their own cases.

Loki gives Thor a silver helmet with wings, a beautiful dagger that is big enough that for Thor it will serve as a sword, a gorgeous leather belt with a scabbard, a book, and a fur cloak. When Thor passes the Casket of Ancient Winters across the altar to his spouse, the court can't stifle its gasp. Loki smiles and waves his hands around it and the thing vanishes, drawing a few more gasps and some shouts.

Their vows are identical, so they say them simultaneously.

“Henceforth am I your husband and thus am I made whole. By your grace my eyes are granted sight, and your face is the first thing they have seen. I pray that it may also be the last. Your voice will be the music to which my feet shall finally dance. At night your name will curl up to sleep on my tongue. For you does my heart beat. For you, my lungs draw breath. You shall be ever in my thoughts, so all my thoughts shall be of love.”

It discomfits Thor to say these thing to a stranger, and to hear them from one. But his husband's voice is pleasant, and his face is handsome. Thor counts his blessings as they come.

The princes lift their arms and Frigga and Farbauti pull their sons' clothes off over their heads and lay the gowns on the altar. The kings set them ablaze. When the fire has burned itself out, the newlyweds lean across the cold marble and kiss, lips clasping softly and eyes searching. Loki's skin is cool, but his breath is warm. Thor wasn't expecting that.

The gold is collected by a smith.

Pages bring robes for the princes and the whole company walks to a hall to feast.

Things are finally more lively. Thor had expected cheers at the end of the wedding ceremony, as there would have been on Asgard, but it seems the Jotnar are more somber. Or less enthusiastic. Thor wonders if he's really wanted here.

Byleistr and Helblindi are bursting with excitement and goodwill, however, and Thor is greatly relieved by this. They only get happier as the evening wears on, teasing Loki and Thor, plying them with food and drinks, and planning to drag them out hunting as soon as they're done with their honeymooning. Thor suspects they'll be hunting in the morning, if not sooner. Loki has kept his hands largely to himself. He has leaned over a few times and set his hand at the small of Thor's back, pointing out the members of court with a nod of his head and breathing the best gossip about them into Thor's ear. He brushed his fingers over Thor's when he took his goblet from him to refill it with wine, but Thor wasn't certain if it was meant to be friendly or if it was incidental. They danced, but Frigga had held Thor closer when she was teaching him the steps than Loki held him as they spun through the hall.

There is food from Asgard. It's a comfort. The roasted meats of Jotunheim are a pleasant surprise. Richer than Thor would have expected. Tender and falling off the bone. Thor eats as much as his nerves allow.

Odin and Frigga will be departing in the morning and Thor is secretly grateful that they'll be on this realm a little longer. That if everything somehow goes sideways, he'll have allies.

He kisses his mother goodnight and she winks and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

“It's meant to be fun. Enjoy each other,” she says, and digs her fingers into his ribs to make him twist and grin.

Odin claps Thor on the back and smiles broadly at him before offering Frigga his arm and escorting her to their rooms.

Loki offers his own arm to Thor, who nods his head politely and takes it. Loki's brothers escort them to their new room.

“We readied it for you ourselves,” Helblindi says, when they arrive.

“I shudder to think,” Loki teases.

Byleistr puts his huge hands on the newlyweds' backs and pushes them over the threshold. Then he spins on his heel and casts a spell on the door.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks.

Byleistr turns around and grins wickedly, drawing the doors closed as he backs out into the hall.

“You're not leaving this room until you've broken the charm,” he says, and shuts the doors with a boom and a click.

Loki walks over to examine the seidr. It feels simple and benevolent, so he lets it be.

Thor looks around the room, finding his things settled here and there.

Trunks of his clothes.

The rugs from his rooms.

Tapestries from his mother.

A quilt she made. He saw her working on it. The pattern embroidered on it slowly morphs from the scales of a snake to the feathers of a bird, and now Thor knows why.

His hammer is by the window. One of his parents must have put it there. No one else has ever managed to lift the thing.

The bed looks inviting to both sets of eyes. Piled with pillows and silks from Asgard and furs and suede from Jotunheim.

In the center of the room sits a wide cylinder of stone with a strange fire of seidr burning atop it, rendering the room warm.

There's a small dining table by the entry, laden with wine and confections.

Loki had always expected to be run through with a spear of ice and fed to wolves, not wedded to a beauty from the Realm Eternal and sent to bed with wine and sweets. This fate seems a dream.

He's a god, Loki remembers, and understands it for the first time, seeing the lightning flash through the windows as his husband's slim fingers flex by his thighs and he paces like a beast in a cage. Thunder god... so he's a nature god... Asgard's storms are strongest in spring. A fertility god, then, Loki marvels. Perhaps the Norns have smiled upon me after all. 

Loki shifts his skin to match his spouse's and Thor pauses in his pacing to stare.

“Which do you prefer?” Loki asks.

“The night does not compete with the day. As a Jotun you are fairest among your own folk, and as an Aesir you are lovelier than mine.”

“They are all our people now,” Loki reminds him, and Thor nods and smiles.

Loki shifts back into his blue skin, pleased with the lad's pretty speech, and pulls out a seat for Thor.

When Loki bends to sink onto the other chair, his ass sails straight through it and he lands on the floor, laughing. The illusion of the chair remains intact above him.

“My brothers,” Loki explains, and Thor smiles.

Loki stands and eyes the other objects on the table suspiciously.

Only one goblet is real. One plate. One fork.

Loki snorts.

“What is it?” Thor asks.

“They've given us one of everything. Like the bed. They mean to make us share.”

Thor huffs a soft laugh and slides to the edge of his seat. Loki sits beside him and slips an arm around Thor's waist to hold them both in place. He pours wine into the real glass and passes it to Thor.

It's sweet. Thor hums and the sound makes Loki smile. Loki skewers a tiny cake and holds it up for Thor, who leans to take it from the tines of the fork with his teeth. He sighs when it hits his tongue.

“Good?” Loki asks.

“My favorite from home.”

Loki takes a bite and his eyebrows lift.

“We'll have to send for them. There's nothing like this here.”

Thor looks surprised and sad all at once.

“What do you have here?” Thor asks.

“All that we have is ultimately dependent upon the sea. There is heat in the deep places within it. Tiny life dwells there. Strange animals and plants. Larger animals live upon those, and still larger ones upon those. The beasts my people live on eat the seals and whales and fish. For anything else we must trade.”

They finish their wine and cake and Loki leads Thor into a smaller room.

Two baths are carved into the stone floor. Thor bends to see which one is real.

“There really are two,” Thor notes. “The left is cool and the right is hot.”

Loki hums and drapes his robe over a table before reaching to take Thor's.

It's easier here in the bath. Thor is accustomed to being naked in a space like this. He unties his belt and turns to let Loki take the garment from his shoulders. They each sink into the tub meant for them and quietly go about the business of bathing.

Thor recognizes the embroidery at the edges of the towels as his mother's handiwork. Hammers on one and runes on the other. It makes him feel as though he's always being watched over, and he's surprised to find that he welcomes it.

They scrub themselves dry and Thor follows Loki back out into the bedroom.

Thor is taller, but Loki is broader. The muscles that curl around Loki's bones are sturdy and tight where Thor's are scant and still buried beneath the last lingering wisps of his baby-fat. He looks smooth and soft where Loki looks chiseled and hard. Thor will make up the gap within a year, and keep growing for another two, but that hardly helps him now. He hopes Loki will not think him weak. Or childish.

Thor's eyes follow the raised markings on his husband's skin as though they are roads on a map. He finds it strangely soothing. And the shared meal and bath have set him at ease.

Loki seats himself on the edge of the bed and pats the place beside him.

Thor sits and resists the urge to fold his hands over his lap, letting them perch atop his thighs instead.

They can hear the thunder groaning quietly outside, but the room barely brightens with lightning. Thor's storms seem to be settling and drifting out to sea.

“I would not have you unwilling,” Loki says, turning toward Thor. “I'm not a monster. This marriage was no more of my making than of yours. We needn't punish each other for it.”

“It is no punishment,” Thor answers. “It is a gift, is it not? I mean to keep my promises. I would not rob my husband of the pleasures of his wedding night.”

“Nor I mine,” Loki agrees, smiling.

Loki lifts his hand to Thor's cheek and thunder cracks outside as light bursts through the windows.

“Sorry,” Thor sighs.

“You needn't fear me.”

“It is not fear,” Thor says, but the storm gets louder.

Snow whispers against the windowpanes and lightning flashes almost as often as not.

Loki reaches to cup Thor's jaw and thunder shakes the palace.

Thor huffs at himself.

Loki is about to ask Thor if he's nervous, but then he sees the lovely flesh between his husband's legs, full and firm, bobbing briskly with Thor's pulse.

Excited, then, Loki decides. But why so frantic?

And then it occurs to him.

A sex-starved fertility god. The Norns love me tonight.

“You've gone untouched all this time,” Loki says.

“Of course. I was promised to you. Have you-”

“No. But I have myself at my disposal,” Loki answers, and waves his fingers.

And now there are two Lokis in the room. Thor's eyes widen and then he smiles.

“My hands are not so clever, and they are all I've had,” Thor says.

Loki nods and recalls his double with another twist of his fingers and then climbs across the bed and lies down, rubbing the space in front of him until Thor sinks into the silk beside him.

“Breathe with me,” Loki says, and Thor follows his lead as Loki takes thirty slow, deep breaths.

They watch each other's breasts rise and fall.

The storm outside calms slightly. The wind no longer howls, though the thunder, snow, and lightning remain.

“Keep breathing,” Loki whispers, and lays Thor down on his back.

Loki leans over him and carefully traces the features of Thor's face with the cool tips of his fingers.

The chill on his cheeks gives Thor something to focus on and helps to slow his heart just slightly. Loki brushes the flat of his hand along Thor's jaw and brow, then down over his neck and the base of his throat. He rubs Thor's shoulders and then swings his leg over to sit astride him.

Thor's breathing shifts, shortening slightly.

“Slowly,” Loki reminds him, and Thor nods and brings himself to heel.

Loki drops his head and runs the tip of his nose down the bridge of Thor's own. Drags his cheek over Thor's. Rolls their foreheads together. He nips Thor's ear and Thor arches beneath him, pushing his cock up against Loki's. Thor starts panting again.

“Shhhh,” Loki soothes. “Breathe.”

Thor does, though he's clearly struggling. But the wind is still soft, so Loki doesn't press him.

The dry outer edges of Loki's lips had been cold against Thor's earlobe, but the slick inner part had been hot. The contrast was delicious, and the fragile little leaf of flesh had surprised Thor with its sensitivity.

Loki is finding it increasingly difficult to resist the warm body beneath him. Fair skin, fierce eyes, and graceful limbs, smooth and soft and shaking.

He runs kisses along Thor's cheekbone and down to the corner of his mouth, and Thor turns his head to align their lips, eyes open wide and asking.

Loki's kiss is yes, all hot and cold and dry and wet at once, and Thor arches again and Loki has no reason to resist. He rests on his left elbow while his right hand slides from Thor's shoulder to his breast to his belly, which jumps at the touch, and then dips to his hips to grip his cock.

Thor's skin is hot in Loki's hand. He glides Thor's foreskin down and then lifts his own hips and sets the tip of Thor's prick at the mouth of his quim.

When Loki sinks down until their bodies are flush, he feels every ridge and vein as they drag across his cunt.

Thor gapes and makes a quiet ah, breathing carefully for a moment before settling his hands on Loki's waist and gently rubbing there.

Thor's cheeks are red and his eyes are blue; Loki's are just the opposite.

Thor curls his hips up and Loki rises slightly to give him space. He pulls Loki's lips down against his own while his pelvis rocks on the bed, pressing his length up into the warmth of Loki's quim and dragging it nearly all the way out again. Loki is pleased that his husband's kisses remain clear and focused despite the frantic motions below.

“I'm going to spill,” Thor says, warm words ghosting over cold lips.

“Fill me,” Loki whispers, and Thor does, stiffening and breathing Loki's name as his hips pump their last and bursts of semen beat against the back wall of Loki's cunny, tickling him with their fluttering stream.

They sag against each other and kiss again, mouths slack and wet and panting. Thor can feel Loki's cock pushing down into his belly, still hard.

He's not about to leave his spouse unsatisfied.

Thor wraps his arms around Loki and rolls them so that Loki can lie still and relax. He rocks his hips gently.

He spilled and he's still hard, Loki realizes, and hums, delighted.

Thor moves in soft but swift little thrusts and listens to his husband's breathing. It's shortening, and Loki's legs are flexing around him. A moment later Loki is keening and his cunt is tightening around Thor in erratic increments. Afterward, Loki goes limp and lies there gasping.

But his cock is still hard against Thor's stomach and their bellies are still dry.

Thor resumes his rhythm and Loki shudders again.

And again.

And again.

But his seed has yet to spill.

Thor likes to meet challenges head-on.

He slides deep into Loki's body and kisses him until Loki's hips lift insistently, then slowly slips his cock from Loki's quim and nibbles his way down to Loki's hips.

His mouth waters. He wants to swallow the long smooth length of Loki's prick, but the shiny folds of flesh below are too lovely to resist.

Thor can smell his own seed and see it seeping from Loki's cunny. He leans down to lick it clean and Loki jerks, but spreads his thighs wider. Loki's cold skin is a comfort. Thor would be sweating were it not for the welcome chill of the long legs draped around him. The furls of flesh around his tongue, however, are hot. And the erection bobbing before his face is slightly warm. Thor keeps lapping and dipping his tongue into the tangy passage until Loki's hips press up toward him forcefully. He licks his way along the base of Loki's length and swirls his tongue around the head before slowly descending.

He sucks Loki's cock the way he has always wished someone would suck his own. He rubs Loki's balls gently and teases his slit. The latter pulls a moan from Loki, so Thor keeps doing it, easing two fingers into him in tiny stages until he's gliding them all the way in and out with every bob of his head and Loki's legs are taut and shaking on the bed beside him.

Thor tightens his lips just slightly and Loki stops breathing. He arches off the bed three times and his cunt clenches around Thor's fingers as his semen hits the back of Thor's throat.

“Oh fuck, Thor.”

Thor is smiling and wiping seed off of his chin before licking it from the back of his hand.

Loki's half-lidded eyes look on, sated and hungry all at once. He rolls away to grab something from the bedside table. A pretty little pot of stone, elaborately carved. When he dips his fingers into it they emerge with a thick translucent paste. He lies down once again and grins.

“Come here,” Loki purrs, with a toss of his head, and Thor climbs up the slim blue body.

Loki wraps his legs around Thor's hips and pulls him down into him. Loki's quim is slick and faintly quivering around Thor's cock.

Thor's head falls to the pillow beside his husband's and he breathes in the scent of shiny black hair: ambergris.

And suddenly everything is warmer.

Thor looks up to find Loki has shifted his skin.

And then two warm fingertips are rubbing the strange unguent into Thor's anus.

Thor goes still and Loki kisses his neck as one slender finger slips inside. Loki's other hand presses on Thor's behind to start him moving again.

When Thor drops, Loki's quim engulfs him. When he rises, Loki's finger pierces him.

It gets better with every thrust.

Thor wants to do this all day.

Soon Thor is moaning and gasping, almost laughing.

“Don't spill yet,” Loki breathes. “I want you to spend while you're speared on my prick.”

“Hurry,” Thor begs, and Loki's finger slips from him.

“On your back for me,” Loki coaxes, and Thor falls away, long limbs spread out across the bed.

Loki slicks them both up with more of the oil and hovers over the buzzing body beneath him.

The thunder outside is a steady roar, distant now, but ceaseless.

“Bring your knees up and wrap your legs high around my ribs,” Loki says.

Thor does.

Loki's skin is softer in Aesir form. Paler than Thor's. He looks like a figure out of a dream.

“Bear down for me, hard and quick.”

Thor's brows furrow slightly as he complies, then ascend as he feels Loki's cock easing into him.

“All right?” Loki asks, once he's all the way in, and Thor nods rapidly.

Loki's thrusts start out shallow and slow, gradually increasing in pace and depth as Thor slackens slightly around him.

When Thor's gasps sound like laughter once again, Loki smiles against his husband's lips.

“Touch yourself for me.”

A soft little whine gets caught in Thor's throat, but he reaches between their bellies as fast as he can.

His ass tightens around Loki's cock with every stroke of his hand, and now they're both making the funny giggling grunts.

Thor's neck stretches out for miles before Loki's eyes as his head falls back and he wails Loki's name, painting their bellies with streaks of semen and clenching around Loki's cock. Loki fills Thor's body with spend and sags against him, kissing his neck and praising him.

“I think we're for the bath again,” Loki says, smiling softly, and Thor nods.

Loki shifts his skin Jotun and they soak in their tubs until they're in danger of falling asleep, then drag themselves back to bed.

Loki tucks quilts and furs around Thor and shifts his skin Aesir once more so that he may lie beneath the blankets without being bothered and set his skin to Thor's without chilling him all night long.

Thor presses his front to Loki's side and lays his head on his shoulder, eyes seeking Loki's own for permission. Loki smiles and kisses Thor's forehead.

“Goodnight, husband,” Loki grins.

“Husband,” Thor murmurs, and his arm tightens around Loki's waist. “Goodnight.”

In the morning, they hasten to the kitchens and find Helblindi and Byleistr having their way with the wedding leftovers.

“If you ate all the cakes I will cut them from your bellies,” Loki warns, and his brothers spin.

“Did you cheat the charm?” Byleistr asks.

“Hmm?” Loki says, only half listening as he piles a plate with sweets and roasted meat while Thor does the same.

“On the door,” Byleistr clarifies.

“I forgot about that,” Loki admits, scowling. “Did your seidr lack the strength to last the night?”

“The seidr was sound,” Byleistr says, chuckling now, and Helblindi joins him.

“What was it?” Loki asks.

“What was what?” Byleistr asks.

“The condition. The term. To break the charm.”

Helblindi and Byleistr are doubled over laughing. When they settle, they clear their throats and straighten.

“You had to moan each other's names,” Byleistr answers, and the twins start giggling again.

Loki rolls his eyes and Thor blushes scarlet, but he's beaming.

“Are we going hunting now?” Heblindi asks, once he has sobered, and Loki looks to his husband to see how he feels.

But Thor is looking at Helblindi and grinning and shaking his head.

“I'm not done moaning his name yet,” Thor says.

Loki can barely eat his breakfast for all his smirking.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't disable commenting here. If I could, I would. Please pretend that I have.


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